


Words on Your Wrist

by AGirlNamedEd



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: (because I've lost control of my life), (including VegeBul and Piccolo/Tien), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Relationships, I alternate between being really nice to people and really mean, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:58:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8428765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGirlNamedEd/pseuds/AGirlNamedEd
Summary: It was the one constant throughout the known universe that everyone had a soulmate, a person who meshed with them in all the right ways, a person they were meant to spend their lives with. Some soulmates stayed the closest of friends and allies, some became closer than family, but most fell in love and became mates. And everyone had at least one name written on their body, usually on the wrist.

Yamcha doesn't have a name on his wrist so much as he has a pattern. Bulma has a similar pattern, so they must be soulmates! Except then someone else shows up claiming that Yamcha does in fact have a name on his wrist: Raditz.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TiedyedTrickster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiedyedTrickster/gifts).



> I was talking with TiedyedTrickster and they suggested a “Radcha soulmate AU where your soulmate’s name is written on your wrist and Bulma and Yamcha originally think they’re soulmates because their soulmates’ names are written in some kind of weird alien language. Turns out nope, they’re in Galactic Standard, and Yamcha’s present when Raditz shows up at Kame House and kind of derails the Saiyan saga.” So here it is.

The writing on Raditz’s wrist was wrong.

He’d known ever since he was a child about the names on people’s wrists that told of their future soulmate—or soulmates, in some cases. Everyone did. It was the one constant throughout the known universe that everyone had a soulmate, a person who meshed with them in all the right ways, a person they were meant to spend their lives with. Some soulmates stayed the closest of friends and allies, some became closer than family, but most fell in love and became mates. And everyone had at least one name written on their body, usually on the wrist.

Raditz’s, however, wasn’t written in the same language as everyone else’s.

Instead of the blocky characters of Galactic Standard, Raditz had some kind of strange sticks emblazoned in black on his left wrist. They _looked_ like they formed together to make a word—or maybe two?—but not in any language he’d ever seen. It could only mean one thing: Raditz’s soulmate was from a planet that hadn’t joined the galactic community yet. Sometimes he’d hear other soldiers muttering to each other about it.

“You see that Saiyan? No, the hairy one. Word has it his soulmate’s from some backwater planet with no space travel yet. Always knew he was the weird one of that bunch, and considering Prince Vegeta, that’s saying a lot.”

“Hey, you hear about that one guy whose soulmate’s supposed to be from a planet that doesn’t even use Galactic Standard? Honestly I’m kind of impressed they’ve survived this long. They’re probably in a quadrant we haven’t gotten to yet—but I guess it’s only a matter of time.”

Eventually, Raditz took to wearing bracers on his arms so people would stop talking about it. He told himself he didn’t care about his weird soulmate from the far reaches of space—it wasn’t like he’d ever meet them, anyway. But every so often, he’d catch a glimpse of the strange writing on his wrist when he took his bracers off to bathe or sleep, and a sort of relief washed over him when he saw it was still there. There was still that chance.

Vegeta always turned up his nose and sneered at him. “You’ll never meet them,” he’d say, “so don’t even bother.” Vegeta always wore gloves and long sleeves, so Raditz had never seen what his wrist said. “I don’t have a soulmate,” Vegeta claimed. “Why would I want one anyway?”

Nappa always got quiet when the topic of soulmates was brought up. The name on his wrist was scarred over so much that it couldn’t be read. Raditz never asked about it.

~~~

“Soulmates shouldn’t argue this much, right?”

“Yamcha,” Puar sighed, “I’ve told you before, _every_ relationship has some arguing to it. Just because you’re soulmates doesn’t mean you’re always going to—”

“But we fight so _much_ ,” Yamcha interrupted, slumping in his seat. “That can’t be normal, even for non-soulmates.”

“But you _are_ soulmates,” Puar insisted, floating over to perch on the arm of his chair. “You have to be! Who else would have that kind of writing?”

Yamcha ran his thumb over the blocky symbols on his right wrist. “I don’t know. I mean, Tien’s got something weird written on his wrist, but it’s clearly in a different language. But if Bulma both have this kind of writing, and Tien’s got that kind of writing, maybe there’s—maybe there’s someone else in the world with this writing, too. Maybe I just haven’t found her yet.” He sighed. “And even if I _did_ find her, I wouldn’t be able to talk to her properly…”

“What if it’s a man?” Puar asked.

“I-I—” Yamcha blushed. “I don’t think—I mean, guys are _nice_ , but I like girls more. Probably. I think.” He tucked his feet under him and leaned on the other arm of his chair. “I haven’t thought about it much—I always just assumed my soulmate was Bulma.”

“It _is_ Bulma,” Puar insisted. “No one else has that kind of writing. Even Tien’s is different. It’s got to be her.”

Yamcha didn’t answer. He scratched at the writing and stared absently at his wrist. What was he supposed to say? That he was only still with Bulma at this point because he didn’t know what else to do? That he was scared that leaving Bulma to try and let them both find healthier relationships would mean losing his soulmate? That when he held her hand that first time, he felt _something_ , but not the overwhelming rush of warmth that was supposed to happen with your real soulmate? That he didn’t want to stay with Bulma, but that she was his only shot at ever getting married and having a real family? That he could never admit all his fears and anxieties out loud because that made them too real, to scary?

Puar nudged him. “Go to the reunion at Kame House this weekend,” she said. “Make up with Bulma. You two have known each other for too long to let your relationship end now.”

He shrugged. “I guess I’ll give it one more shot.”

~~~

This was a disaster.

Yamcha kept his hands up by his face, trying not to let anyone see how panicked he was. Krillin was sitting dazedly in a hole in Kame House’s wall, with Roshi fluttering over him in a panic. Bulma was hiding behing Yamcha; Goku’s son (Gohan?) was hiding behind Goku’s legs. Goku was clearly shaken as well, but he was doing a better job of hiding it than Yamcha felt he was.

The huge, hairy stranger who claimed to be Goku’s brother wrapped his tail back around his waist and sneered. “Pathetic,” he declared. “I can’t believe even you’d have so much trouble as to not be able to wipe these humans out after all this time, Kakarott.”

“I told you, my name’s not Kakarott!” Goku said. “And I’m not killing my friends!”

Yamcha shifted his weight and the stranger’s eyes flicked to him. Yamcha froze and the man gave him a once over, then looked away dismissively. “Pathetic,” he said again.

“Don’t you ignore me!” Yamcha snapped. He tried not to let his voice sound strangled, but it only mostly worked. “You think we’re really going to let you destroy our planet without a fight?” Kami, he couldn’t _believe_ he’d thought this guy was attractive when he’d first showed up. He was a condescending asshole at best, a serial killer at worst. And why was he going around finding random guys attractive, anyway? No, this guy was bad news, and if Yamcha had any sense at all he’d keep his mouth shut.

The man snorted and glanced back at Yamcha. “As if a weakling race such as yours could stand up to—” He cut himself off, eyes widening and snapping to Yamcha’s wrist. He choked. “You—can’t—” he stammered.

“Hey!” Goku’s voice brought the stranger’s attention back to him and Yamcha took the opportunity to breathe. He was freaking out. What were they supposed to do against this guy? Krillin was stronger than Yamcha, and Raditz had taken him out with one blow from his tail. His _tail_. If Goku couldn’t do anything against him, they were toast.

Suddenly the man shoved past Goku to stalk straight towards Yamcha. “N-now hang on!” Yamcha shouted, backing up a step, bringing his hands back to charge a Kamehameha. “Don’t come any—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the man raised his hand, there was a sharp pain in Yamcha’s neck, and he passed out.

~~~

Okay. So. Now what?

Raditz paced restlessly, tail lashing back and forth. When he saw the writing on the Earthling’s wrist, he’d panicked. It was a reaction unbefitting a seasoned warrior like him, but now, after the fact, he could admit, to himself at least, that he’d panicked. Panicked and grabbed the human and ran off with him, a hasty threat for Kakarott to kill the rest of the humans or this one would die tossed over his shoulder. He didn’t really expect Kakarott to comply; he’d been fully brainwashed by this insipid planet and he was more likely to turn on Raditz than help him, even though they were brothers. But at least this way he’d bought himself time to think.

The human had Raditz’s name on his wrist.

Gods above, he should have _known_. He should have known he’d find his soulmate in a place like this, some bland planet that had barely crawled out of its stone age. It was just Raditz’s stupid luck.

But he’d been prepared to fight Raditz to save his planet, even though he must have known how much stronger Raditz was compared to him. That took courage, and pride, to hold his ground unwaveringly like that. Not to mention the fact that his power level far outstripped that of any other humans he’d seen. For a human, he must be decently strong. His gaze strayed to his travel pod, where he’d thrown the unconscious man in his panic. He wondered why he’d gotten so strong. Was it to protect his planet, or those he loved? Was it his pride that demanded his continued growth? Despite himself, Raditz wanted to know more about the human who was supposed to be his soulmate. It was just curiosity, he told himself. Nothing more. He’d have to kill him eventually; he’d never come back to Vegeta and Nappa with Raditz and would have to die with the rest of his planet.

Raditz felt sick to his stomach.

Maybe…maybe it was alright that he wasn’t from a Frieza planet. That he was a human. Maybe he didn’t have to die. After all, he _was_ Raditz’s soulmate, and he didn’t want to lose him again so soon after finally finding him.

His scouter beeped and his head snapped up. There was an enormous power level nearby, rapidly growing bigger and stronger. It wasn’t Kakarott coming to either join him or die trying to stop him, it was—coming from his pod?

He whirled to face it just in time to see the pod explode and the human step unscathed from its crater. His face was a mask of wild fury, a fire burning in his eyes that made Raditz a little weak in the knees. Oh, but he was attractive, in a strange, alien sort of way. A fierce, strong sort of attractive.

Raditz took it all back. If this man was to be his soulmate, he had no problems with that whatsoever.

He folded his arms and refused to show he was impressed by this little display of strength. “You blew up my cryo pod.”

“You kidnapped me,” the man shot back.

Raditz conceded the point. “Give me your wrist.”

The human shrank back. “No.”

Raditz was on him in two steps and snatched up his wrist, being careful to use his right hand. He shoved it into the man’s face. “Do you know what this says?”

“No!” The man struggled to pull away, slapping a hand over Raditz’s chest and firing a ball of energy into it. The force of it made Raditz step back slightly, but it wasn’t even enough to crack his armor, let alone actually damage him. He held the wrist tightly. “Let go of me! It doesn’t even say anything; it’s just a pattern!”

“Yes, it does! It says ‘Raditz,’” Raditz said.

“That supposed to mean something?” the man growled.

“It’s—” Raditz faltered. Had he really forgotten his name? He was sure he’d introduced himself before knocking him unconscious. Then again, he still didn’t know his soulmate’s name.

He released the man’s wrist and fumbled with the bracer on his left forearm. “Don’t even bother,” he told the man when he stumbled back a few steps. “I’ll just knock you out again, and then we’ll be back to square one.” He glanced up and saw the man rubbing his wrist, glaring at Raditz with trepidation. “Don’t be like that,” he said, and it came out more…tenderly, Raditz supposed, than he’d intended. “I won’t hurt you if you don’t try to get away.”

“Why’re you doing this?” the man demanded. “I saw how easily you took down Krillin. He’s one of the strongest people I know. If you wanted to you could destroy this planet pretty easily. So why kidnap me instead?”

“A couple reasons.” Raditz finished undoing the last strap of his bracer and yanked it off. “You’re my bait, first of all. I’d rather work together with Kakarott, but if I have to kill him I will. You’re my insurance policy so that Kakarott will cooperate.”

“Why me, though?” The human folded his arms. “I can fight back. I’m a student of the Turtle School, one of its top graduates, surpassing even Muten Roshi himself! Almost anyone else would have been an easier target.”

Raditz shrugged. “I never said that was the only reason. I also want you to tell me what this says.” He thrust his wrist towards him.

The man’s eyes flicked down, then away, then immediately back to Raditz’s wrist again. He took a step back. “Wh-what—that’s—it can’t be you,” he blurted.

“Human.” Raditz reached out and grabbed the man’s shirt with his other hand. “What. Does. It. Say.”

He swallowed. “Y-Yamcha. It says Yamcha.”

“Yamcha.” Raditz rolled the word around his mouth. “Is that your name, then?”

Yamcha nodded, eyes bigger than the moon.

“Mine’s Raditz.” Raditz released Yamcha’s shirt and looked from his wrist to Yamcha’s. “It looks like we’re soulmates.”

“No,” Yamcha said weakly, backing up. “No, I won’t believe it. Bulma’s my soulmate; she’s the only one with the same language as me—”

“What, Galactic Standard?” Raditz retrieved his bracer and started trying to put it back on. What a pain, trying to do up the fastenings with one hand. “Back where I’m from, everyone’s name’s written in that language. Sorry, Yamcha, but you’re not as special as you think you are.” He abandoned the bracer on the ground, and something Yamcha had said clicked. “Wait, you said someone else has a name in Galactic Standard on their wrist?”

Yamcha nodded shakily. “My—my girlfriend, Bulma. That’s why we’re soulmates, because—”

“Tell me something, Yamcha.” Now that Raditz knew his soulmate’s name, he wanted to keep saying it. He liked how it sounded, how it felt on his tongue. “You and this…Bulma person. You’re sure you’re soulmates?”

“I—” Yamcha swallowed and folded his arms. “Of course I’m sure. I love her.” Raditz must not have looked convinced, because he added “Sure, things’ve been rough lately—or a lot—but she’s really important to me and I’d never hurt her! Not on purpose, anyway. I don’t even _know_ you! And you want to kill everyone on my planet! It’d be like Tenshinhan being soulmates with Piccolo! It wouldn’t make sense!”

Raditz didn’t know who Tenshinhan or Piccolo were, but decided not to bring it up. The explanation would likely take a while. “Listen,” he said, “all I know is that I’ve waited too long for my soulmate to finally show up in my life. And now that you’re here, I don’t want to lose you again.” He folded his arms and wrapped his tail back firmly around his waist. Gods, _he_ was the pathetic one. All those years of convincing himself that he didn’t need his soulmate, didn’t _want_ his soulmate, all his hard work undone by actually meeting the man himself. “But if you’re still not convinced, there’s one thing we can try.”

Yamcha paled. Raditz noticed it made the scars on his face stand out more. He wondered how he’d gotten them, and if Yamcha might tell him sometime. “No,” Yamcha said, holding his right wrist to his chest. “I won’t do it.”

“Why not?” Raditz held out his left hand. Was it his imagination, or were the letters on his wrist tingling faintly? “If we’re not really soulmates, then there’s nothing to worry about.”

“B-because!” Yamcha protested. “We’re not soulmates, so there’s no reason to!”

“Then there’s no reason to be afraid.” Raditz wiggled his fingers. “I promised I wouldn’t hurt you. So come over here, and put your money where your mouth is.” Yamcha backed up, shaking his head. The words slipped out before Raditz really thought about them. “If you’re right, and we’re not soulmates, I’ll leave this planet forever. I’ll even tell everyone that it’s inhospitable—no, destroyed, so no one from my army will come here again.”

Yamcha paused, and Raditz could see he was thinking it over. His eyes flicked down Raditz’s body before snapping back up to his face. Raditz smirked when Yamcha blushed. Oh, he was _adorable_. Despite his initial misgivings, Yamcha was proving to be intelligent, strong, brave, and good-looking to boot. He didn’t see him fitting in well with the Planet Trade, but—

“And if I’m wrong?” Yamcha asked nervously. He was eyeing Raditz’s hand with trepidation.

Raditz’s triumphant grin felt good on his face. “When it turns out I’m right, and we’re soulmates, I’ll probably do something stupid like kiss you or something.” The shade of red Yamcha turned really suited him. “And then we’ll talk seriously about where we go from here.”

There was another long silence. Raditz’s arm was getting tired. “Okay,” Yamcha finally said. He reached out and, with one last glance at Raditz’s face, firmly clasped Raditz’s left hand with his right.

Something like a wave of warmth washed over Raditz. He might’ve gasped, but he wasn’t really aware of anything, because his focus was squarely on Yamcha. Nothing else in the world—the universe—mattered, because here was his soulmate in front of him, with him, holding his hand and focused completely on Raditz. He almost wanted to cry.

Then moment was over, and they were standing in the middle of a grassy wasteland again, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. Yamcha broke the silence. “Oh,” was all he said, his voice small.

“Yeah,” Raditz said. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his head. Gods, all they’d done was hold hands and he was dazed and disoriented. What would it be like if they kissed—or even—“I’m gonna do something stupid now,” he declared.

Yamcha barely had enough time to choke out an “Okay” before Raditz’s lips were on his. He held tightly to Yamcha’s hand and tried to show Yamcha how _relieved_ he was at finally finding his soulmate. Yamcha’s other arm snaked its way around Raditz’s waist to pull them closer. Raditz ran his hand through Yamcha’s hair, marvelling at how soft it was, so much softer than his own coarse mop. Oh, it was—it was so much better than the times he’d fooled around with random PTO soldiers, and he wasn’t sure if that was just because he was with his soulmate or if Yamcha was just a better kisser than them, but—

“Um…Yamcha?”

Yamcha shoved Raditz away at Kakarott’s voice, breathing hard and wild-eyed. Kakarott stood a few feet away, looking confused. Next to him was the Namekian that Raditz had run into earlier. He seemed bored. “We, uh,” Kakarott said, “we came to rescue you, Yamcha, but should…should we leave?”

“It’s not what it looks like!” Yamcha blurted.

Scowling, Raditz grabbed Yamcha from behind and wrapped his arms around his shoulders and tail around his hips. “It’s _exactly_ what it looks like.”

“Hey!”

“Really?” Kakarott scratched at the back of his neck. “Because it looked like you were kissing, and that’s usually what Chi-Chi and I do—” He stopped and his eyes went wide. “Are you guys soulmates?!”

“We—” Yamcha swallowed, looked up at Raditz, looked back at Kakarott. “Yeah, I think we are.”

~~~

“I’m really sorry, Bulma.”

“Oh, don’t give me your shit.” She swiped angrily at the tears pouring down her face. “How the hell’d you think I was gonna feel, huh? ‘Oh hey, Bulma, by the way, turns out our whole relationship was a _lie_ and I’m actually soulmates with this guy who kidnapped me and threatened to kill all of us. Are we still cool?’”

“Bulma, I didn’t—” Yamcha sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wanted us to work out too, you know?”

She turned away from him. “Look, Yamcha, I get it. It’s not your fault. But I’m still gonna be mad at you for a while.” Bulma sniffled. “And maybe later I’ll forgive you, and maybe it won’t hurt as much later. But right now I can’t, and it hurts.”

“I know.” He went to wrap her in his arms, stopped, awkwardly patted her shoulder instead. “And I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Bulma gave him a watery smile and waved him off. “I’ll be fine. I’m Bulma Fucking Briefs, remember? Now go save the world or whatever.”

Yamcha gave her shoulder one last squeeze before turning and heading back outside. He was still worried about her, but there wasn’t much he could do. They’d both need time to process this. And a question was gnawing at him: if Yamcha wasn’t Bulma’s soulmate, then who was?

When he got outside, Raditz immediately looked up from where he’d been talking with Goku and Roshi. His arms were folded, his tail wrapped around his waist. A cocky smirk spread across his face when he made eye contact with Yamcha. Goku had Gohan in his arms, but the kid was making grabby hands at Piccolo, who stood a few feet away, only half participating in the conversation. Yamcha assumed he’d missed something there.

“How’s Bulma?” Roshi asked, peeking past Yamcha towards his house. “Maybe I should go in there and—”

“Don’t you dare,” Yamcha snapped. “She’s had a rough enough day as it is.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So what did I miss?”

“Um,” said Goku, looking thoughtful, “Raditz has these two friends that’ll come looking for him if he’s gone for too long, and they’re super powerful and mean, and also one of them might be Bulma’s soulmate.”

Yamcha’s eyes snapped to Raditz. “What?”

Raditz’s grin grew. “I only got a glimpse of her wrist, but it definitely said “Vegeta.” I can’t _wait_ to see the look on his face when he finds out!” He threw his head back and laughed.

“But…” Yamcha frowned. “They’re coming here.”

“When I told them my mission was…compromised,” Raditz said, tapping the scouter on the side of his head, “they said they’d come help. I told them not to, but Nappa insisted. They said they’d be here in about a year. They’re counting on me to stay alive and give them the intel they’ll need.” He chuckled. “Not sure how they’ll react to me not being on their side, but oh well. I was getting sick of Vegeta, anyway.”

Yamcha folded his arms. “If this Vegeta guy is supposed to be Bulma’s soulmate, and you’re planning on sticking around and _not killing people_ because you’re my soulmate, you’re going to have to get used to Vegeta again.”

Raditz hesitated. Then he turned to Goku. “He’s smart, too,” he said, and if Yamcha didn’t know better he would have thought he was bragging.

“Daddy,” Gohan whined, “put me _down_.”

Piccolo backed up a few steps.

Yamcha glanced at Piccolo. “And what are you still doing here?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you,” Piccolo retorted. He pointed at Gohan. “Keep that thing away from me.”

“Piccolo said he’d help save the planet too!” Goku said cheerfully. He set Gohan on the beach. “He was gonna help me rescue you, too!”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Piccolo warned. “I’m only helping because I live here too, and if these Saiyans kill everyone there won’t be a planet left for me to take over.” He growled at Gohan as the boy ran over to Piccolo and wrapped himself in his cape, laughing. “I told you to keep him away from me!”

“Well,” Raditz declared, walking up to Yamcha, “this has been fun, but we’d better be going.” Before Yamcha could say anything, he was squawking in surprise as Raditz grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. “I’ve got a soulmate relationship to consummate.”

“N-now wait just a minute!” Yamcha struggled, then shrieked when Raditz took to the air. “Put me down! I’m not consummating anything with you!”

“Relax,” Raditz said. “If I let you go now, you’ll fall. And we wouldn’t want that, right? So sit tight and enjoy the ride.”

Yamcha grumbled and buried his fists in Raditz’s hair. There sure was a lot of it. It was coarser than human hair, the strands thicker and ropier. He guessed it made sense—if Goku’s hair was like this, no wonder it was always so…vertical. “I can’t believe my soulmate finally shows up after all this time and it’s not only a guy, but an asshole space alien who’s only here to kill everyone,” he muttered.

“Don’t be like that.” Raditz shifted his grip on Yamcha and they started to descend. “I’m not planning on killing anyone _now_ , am I?”

“I guess, but—” Yamcha cut himself off with a yelp when Raditz slapped his ass. “What was that for?!”

“It was right there. I had to.” There was a jolt as Raditz touched down, then he hauled Yamcha off his shoulder and set him down. “Was that so bad?”

Yamcha dusted himself of, looking around so Raditz couldn’t see his flushed face. They were in a forest not far from where Raditz’s pod had been. “You didn’t have to smack my ass,” he muttered petulantly.

“Don’t get your tail in a twist. It’s a nice ass.” Raditz folded his arms, smirk back in place, cocksure and confident. Yamcha swallowed. He really was good looking. And those shorts didn’t leave anything to the imagination.

“I’m not having sex with you,” he blurted, because his train of thought had started to go somewhere embarrassing, and they were in the middle of nowhere, and soulmate or not Yamcha wasn’t having his first time with a man anywhere that didn’t involve a bed and lots of lube.

“What?” Raditz’s confident grin wavered into confusion. “Who said anything about that?”

“You did.” Yamcha crossed his arms. “You said we had to “consummate” our relationship. I don’t know what that means in space, but on Earth it means to uh—to have sex.”

“I know what it means,” Raditz snapped, and was it Ymcha’s imagination or did he blush a little? “But if I hadn’t said something like that, do you really think they would’ve let us have any time alone together?” He plopped to the ground, one leg splayed out, the other bent up, leaning back on his hands. “I promised you a serious talk about all this. Do you really want to have that conversation in front of Kakarott? Or the Namekian? Or worse still, your ex-soulmate?”

“I—no.” Yamcha sat across from him, a tree at his back, legs crossed. “Not really. But you could’ve told me you just wanted to talk. If this is going to work, we need to tell each other stuff. Bulma and I—we weren’t very good at it, and look where that got us.”

He half expected Raditz to brush him off and say that it was just because he and Bulma weren’t soulmates—as if meeting your soulmate solved all your problems. But he nodded and said “Alright, sure. Communication. I can do that.”

~~~

“So the first thing Vegeta’ll probably do is sic Nappa on us.”

Raditz paced the shoreline of Kame House as he talked. Yamcha glanced at Tenshinhan from the corner of his eye. He had all three eyes trained on Raditz, following his every move, squinting judgementally at him. Yamcha sighed. None of the others trusted Raditz much. They were a little more accepting of Piccolo once Goku told them how he’d volunteered to help rescue Yamcha _and_ fight off the coming Saiyan invasion, but even then Yamcha noticed that Tenshinhan and Goku both kept themselves nearby to Piccolo at all times. But it had only been a week since Raditz first showed up, and he was still trying to prove himself. It’d take time.

“Vegeta loves fighting,” Raditz continued, “but he hates getting his hands dirty. So he’ll probably just throw Nappa at us and watch.” He paused. “Unless they have any Saibamen. Watch out for those; they’re as strong as I am and they like to blow themselves up.”

Yamcha made a mental note. Getting blown up sounded like a horrible way to die.

“You think we’d be able to take them on?” Krillin asked nervously.

Raditz puffed out his chest. “Absolutely. We’ve got a whole year to train, after all, and you’ve got _me_ on your side now. They can’t throw anything at us that I don’t know about.”

When Raditz was finished talking, they paired off for sparring. Goku and Krillin were throwing punches at each other almost immediately, and Yamcha quickly grabbed Raditz’s arm and dragged him off. Tenshinhan threw him a disgruntled look and he shrugged apologetically. He didn’t really want to leave him with Piccolo, but Raditz and Piccolo would probably be an even worse combination.

“Your friend there doesn’t seem to like me much,” Raditz commented, nodding towards Tenshinhan.

“I wouldn’t take it personally,” Yamcha said, shifting into his favourite battle stance. “Tenshinhan doesn’t really like most people.”

Raditz grunted, then flew at Yamcha, hands out. Yamcha ducked and dodged and spun and kicked and suddenly the two of them were a flurry of fists and feet and hair. This—this was something Yamcha could _do_ , he could spar with the best of them, he was a martial artist, dammit, this is what he’d been missing when he was playing baseball. He and Raditz were a dance of death, a tango of violence, he hadn’t clicked this well with a sparring partner in—well, _ever_ , not even with Tenshinhan. And if Raditz always had the advantage, well, maybe that was okay.

At least, until Yamcha got ahold of his tail.

It was instinct. Raditz lashed out with it and Yamcha’s hand whipped out to grab it. As soon as his hand closed around it, Raditz froze with a cry and toppled forward into Yamcha’s chest. He gripped Yamcha’s shoulders and wheezed. “Let…let go,” he said through clenched teeth. “I can’t…move…like this.”

Yamcha immediately loosened his grip. “Oh, Kami, I forgot about the tail thing, I’m sorry—” He gave it a stroke to soothe it and smooth the fur on it down. Raditz gave a choking sound and wrapped himself around Yamcha’s shoulders. “Sorry,” Yamcha said again, releasing the tail entirely. “Did that hurt?”

“N-no,” Raditz stammered, but he didn’t move. He was breathing hard—they both were—and Yamcha didn’t quite know what to do. No one else had noticed them, from the looks of things. Goku and Krillin were still sparring away, and Piccolo and Tenshinhan were flying around, firing energy bursts at each other. Raditz was still wrapped around him, his face in Yamcha’s hair. “I,” Raditz stopped, swallowed, started again. “I don’t know how much you know about Saiyan tails, but maybe don’t touch mine unless I say it’s okay.”

“Right.” He wrapped his arms around Raditz. It felt—it was _nice_ to hold Raditz like this. Even if they were supposed to be sparring. Even though just a week ago Raditz had planned on killing him and everyone else. Even if—

There was a shout and Yamcha’s head whipped around to see Tenshinhan and Piccolo. They’d clearly been about to get into a stalemate, hands clasped together, pushing back and forth at each other, but instead they stood stock still and stared at each other. Raditz lifted his head to look as well.

“You’re—” Tenshinhan took a step back, but he didn’t let go of Piccolo’s hands, so Piccolo stumbled forward. “You’re not—you can’t be.”

“What the hell just happened?” Piccolo demanded.

Yamcha’s eyes flicked between them, trying to figure that out for himself. Reluctantly, Raditz moved away from him and headed towards Tenshinhan. Yamcha scrambled to follow. Raditz grabbed Tenshinhan’s left wrist and squinted at it. “That’s the Namekian alphabet, alright,” he confirmed. “I don’t know what it says, but I’d bet my tail that it said Piccolo.”

Piccolo balked. “What? Why?”

Yamcha tried to get a good look at Piccolo’s right wrist, but he folded his arms. “I think you guys are soulmates.”

“W-we—” Tenshinhan stuttered. “When our hands met, I felt—there was this _warmth_ , and all that mattered was Piccolo, and—is that how it feels?”

Yamcha glanced at Raditz, who had released Tenshinhan’s hand and was trying to wrestle Piccolo’s wrist out to look at it. “Yep. You two are soulmates.”

“The hell’s a soulmate?” Piccolo demanded, swatting Raditz. “Scratch that, I don’t care. Whatever it is, I don’t want one.”

Tenshinhan held his wrist to his chest. “You’re lying,” he said. “We can’t be soulmates, we’re—we’re not even the same _species_.”

Raditz glanced at Yamcha. “Gods. They make us look _normal_.”

~~~

“Here.” A towel suddenly smacked Raditz in the face. “Dry yourself off as much as you can.”

Raditz grumbled about the rough treatment, but took the towel and complied. Yamcha was wringing his hair out into the kitchen sink, muttering under his breath about how it was _never_ going to dry. They’d been caught in a rainstorm on the way back from Kame House, and Yamcha insisted that Raditz come back to his apartment until it let up. “You can’t hang around in the woods by yourself while it’s raining,” he insisted. “You can come back to my place and get dry.”

Raditz didn’t _mind_ going back to the woods he’d been living in since he arrived on Earth. But on the other hand, he didn’t want to miss his opportunity to spend more time with his soulmate. It had only been two weeks, but even in the short time they’d spent together he found himself growing more and more fond of Yamcha. He was smart, he was cunning, he was a decently strong fighter for someone not from a warrior race. He was confident and bold, a kind sweetheart to those he felt deserved it, a nightmare for those he felt didn’t. And he was gorgeous, in a trim, strong sort of way.

The universe had made up for making Raditz wait so long for his soulmate by giving him the best one.

“What’re you grinning at over there?” Yamcha asked. He’d gotten another towel from the bathroom and was carefully patting his hair dry. Raditz’s eyes trailed down Yamcha’s body. His clothes were soaked and clung to him, revealing the long, muscular lines of his legs. Raditz’s grin widened. _Gorgeous_.

“Oh, nothing,” he said, ruffling his hair up with his towel. Gods, the things he’d like to do to him. But no, Yamcha was still sore over the woman he’d thought was his soulmate. He wasn’t ready. Raditz would have to wait. Because really, what was even the _point_ if everyone wasn’t enjoying themselves?

“Don’t do that.” The towel was snatched from him. Yamcha started squeezing sections of Raditz’s hair inside the towel. “You’ll break your hair and it’ll be fragile and fall out easier.”

“I’ve always done it that way.”

Yamcha flashed him a cheeky grin. “Then you’re lucky I’m here to show you the right way.”

Raditz didn’t say anything, just let Yamcha dry his hair. It was…nice, being touched like this. It wasn’t sexual, but it felt intimate, in a way that it might not have been if it was anyone else doing it. He pressed his face into Yamcha’s shoulder and breathed in his scent, somewhat washed away by the rain but still there, still distinctly Yamcha. His eyes slid closed of their own accord and he relaxed against Yamcha, breathing slowly as Yamcha dried his hair. His hands drifted up to rest on Yamcha’s hips.

Yamcha flinched back. “You’re so warm,” he said, startled. “How are you so warm? You’re soaked!”

“Saiyans are naturally warmer than most species,” Raditz said, rubbing circles into Yamcha’s hips. “You’re cold…we should get you out of these wet clothes.”

“I—I, um,” Yamcha pulled back, twisting the towel in his hands, “you’re right, I’ll go change. And I’ll see if I’ve got anything that’ll fit you. I mean, I probably don’t, but all the clothes we got you last week are at Kame House, so—”

“Yamcha.” Raditz stepped forward, slid his hands up Yamcha’s arms. He was shaking—was he more cold or nervous? “You know what I was implying.”

He blew out a breath. “I know.”

Raditz leaned forward. “So? How about it? You’ve got to get out of them somehow—why not let me help you out?” He pressed his lips to Yamcha’s for only the second time since they’d met. Yamcha’s hands shakily rested on Raditz’s waist, squeezing the fabric of his too-small hoodie. He pushed Raditz back after only a minute, flushed and biting his lip.

His eyes flicked over Raditz’s form before he seemed to come to a decision and his hands tugged him forward a little. “Only if I get to help you out of yours.”

Raditz grinned and captured Yamcha’s lips again. His hands fumbled with the belt at Yamcha’s waist. Maybe he was a little over his head—he still didn’t fully understand Earth clothing and had a hard enough time dressing himself more often than not, let alone undressing someone else. But it was fine, he could fake his way through it. If all else failed, he could just rip Yamcha’s clothes off. That was always fun.

Yamcha’s clothes, it turned out, all came off in one piece. He stood in front of Raditz in his underwear and nothing else, turning several shades of scarlet. Raditz reached out and traced the blush from his neck to his chest, grinning as he did. He was right: Yamcha was gorgeous. Absolutely worth the wait.

“C-come on,” Yamcha said, squirming under Raditz’s touch. “It’s not fair if only _you_ get to look.” And with that he shoved Raditz’s hoodie off his shoulders, tossing it onto the kitchen floor. Raditz gasped as Yamcha’s hands slid into his shirt and up over his chest, pulling the tight, wet fabric up as he went. He planted a kiss to the middle of Raditz’s chest as Raditz struggled to pull the shirt off the rest of the way. Yamcha stepped back and looked him up and down. “Boy,” he said, “they sure don’t build them like you around here.”

Raditz preened. “Less talking,” he said, wrapping his tail around Yamcha’s hips, “more touching.” He yanked them together and Yamcha yelped, then laughed. Raditz’s hands didn’t know what to touch first. They wandered across Yamcha’s back, grabbed at his thighs, ran through his still-damp hair and down his arms. Yamcha’s hands wrapped around Raditz’s waist and he kissed Raditz’s neck. He moaned when Raditz squeezed his ass, gasped when Raditz pulled him forward to grind their hips together.

“Wait,” Yamcha choked out, pulling away. His chest heaved, his pupils were blown wide. Raditz gripped Yamcha tighter. They couldn’t stop now, not yet, he still _wanted_ — “Bedroom,” Yamcha said, grabbing Raditz’s hand and dragging him into another room in the apartment.

Raditz grinned. “No complaints from—hey!”

Yamcha threw him onto the bed and clambered on top of him, arms on either side of Raditz’s head. “Shit,” he muttered, “I just wanted to get us both warm and dry, Raditz; look what you’re doing to me.”

Raditz did look. He gave Yamcha a long, hard look. His hands ran up Yamcha’s sides. “I like what I see.”

“This is all your fault,” Yamcha told him, leaning down and pressing their chests together. “You’re walking around in those little shorts all the time…so _distracting_. How was I supposed to concentrate on training when my soulmate was right there, wearing clothes but only _barely_?” His hands slid into Raditz’s pants and his mouth moved next to Raditz’s ear. “Kami, Raditz, I knew I was into men but I didn’t realise how _much_ until you showed up. You remember that one time we were sparring and you collapsed against me? All I wanted to do was hold you in my arms forever, did you know that? I barely know you and when we first met you wanted to kill me but now—now you’re here, in my bed.” Raditz’s tail slid up Yamcha’s leg and Yamcha gasped. He struggled with Raditz’s pants and threw them into some corner of the room. “Come on, Raditz,” he said. “Touch me.”

Raditz didn’t need to be told twice. Suddenly he was the one on top, and their underwear was gone, and Raditz ground their hips together. Yamcha moaned and snapped his hips up. Raditz kissed him again, long and lingering and deep, and he groped around for Yamcha’s hand to bring it to his tail.

Yamcha gave it a stroke, and Raditz mumbled his appreciation against Yamcha’s lips, but that wasn’t what he was looking for. He guided Yamcha’s hand to the base, where it connected to skin, and showed him how he liked it. His breathing became ragged when Yamcha tweaked the base of his tail, and he rolled his hips.

“Yamcha,” he murmured, lips pressed to the side of Yamcha’s neck. Yamcha was moaning beneath him, and Raditz was pretty far gone himself. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” He wrapped a hand around both of them and stroked, and Yamcha melted, eyes fluttering shut, mouth dropping open in a silent cry. “Oh, yeah, like that. Gods, I want to keep you like this forever, keep you all to myself. You’re _mine_ , and I’m _yours_ , and that’s something I never thought I’d say to anybody.” He gave them another stroke, and his breath left him for a moment when Yamcha rubbed the base of his tail again. “You—hkk—Yamcha— _ah_ —”

Yamcha grabbed Raditz by the back of the neck with his free hand and slammed their mouths together in a searing kiss. “Less talking,” he growled when he pulled away, “more touching.”

It was hard to argue with that, so Raditz didn’t even try. His hand moved, and Yamcha’s hand moved, and then there was a brief, blissful moment where the world went away and it was just Raditz and Yamcha, locked together. And then it was gone, no matter how hard Raditz struggled to make it last. He rolled off Yamcha, pulling him over as well so they were beside each other, limbs tangled. His hand was sticky and he didn’t really care; he wiped it on his thigh before pulling Yamcha closer again.

Yamcha pressed another kiss to Raditz’s lips, a slower kiss, quieter, calmer. “A man could get used to this,” he said.

Raditz grinned against Yamcha’s lips and rested their foreheads together. “A man certainly could.”


End file.
